Warfarin
by allonsysilvertongue
Summary: Set after Mockingjay. Haymitch stroked Effie's hair, but he couldn't help the feeling of anger creeping in him. Did she think it was okay to leave him behind? All those nightly phone call she made and he couldn't pick up the signs from her? How desperate was she?
1. Chapter 1

**Warning for dark themes.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me.**

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Part One

"Will it get better?" Her words came out in a whisper. Effie's eyes bore into Haymitch's silvery grey, searching for her answer desperately.

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

She tilted her head to the side, a frown on her face.

"The lie."

"It's all true what the doctors told you. It'll get better. Time heals," he told her nonchalantly, one hand gripping the metal bar by the train's door.

The corner of her lips curved in a smile, "And the truth?"

"No - it doesn't. Don't think time heals, if anything they mask your scars," he shook his head, his expression grave. "The war's won, but for some, like Katniss, too much has been lost for it to get better."

She nodded at his words, wiping a tear that escaped from her eyes.

"You take care of them, and yourself, too," she said, patting his upper arm.

"Yeah, you too, sweetheart. You'll be alright."

She gave a weak smile and waved at him as he boarded the train that would take him and the two Victors back to District Twelve.

XxX

It didn't get better. The nightmares kept her up at night. She would find herself waking up in a cold sweat, screaming and thrashing in bed when she did manage to fall asleep. Effie felt and experienced her nightmares so vividly that at times it felt like she was back in prison – her hair being pulled back roughly, a pair of boots stomping on her hand, a fist slamming against her face, her lungs felt like they were on fire when they held her underwater.

Her screaming woke her mother up, the only living family she had left. Effie's sister and her family had been caught in the bomb blast that destroyed the City Circle; her father had long passed even before she was accepted as an Escort.

Her psychologist had diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress disorder but those words meant nothing to her. She just wanted the nightmares to stop, for the pain to end. She heard whispers of survivor's guilt - something she understood.

She stayed up most nights; staring blankly into the distance, thinking of all the children she had led to their deaths. "Second hand murder" was what Haymitch had shouted at her during one of his drunken rages. She thought of all the innocent lives that were lost and wept for them.

Effie did not feel the slightest bit lucky to be rescued from prison, to still be alive.

"The odds seem to be forever in your favour, Effie dear. Ever since you were just a little girl. Your sister had always been envious of you," her mother had said, stroking her hair as Effie laid her head in her mother's lap.

Effie smiled slightly at that, but didn't say anything. She wished for once that the odds were against her. Her life felt so bleak, her nightmares were the new Peacekeepers keeping her trapped and imprisoned.

"Have you called that drunk friend of yours from Twelve yet?" her mother asked.

"Not yet."

"Better call him then, dear. Your doctor said it would help with the healing process if you talk about it with someone familiar."

Effie got up and kissed her mother goodnight. She settled in bed with the phone in her hand and dialled the number she had long memorized.

XxX

"Still seeing your therapist?" his gruff voice asked.

"Yes. I don't - I don't find it helpful, Haymitch. I sit in a chair in his room telling him how I'm coping, I can't -"

"Gotta try though, right? Don't need another Katniss – can't even bother to call her doctor."

Effie sighed. "The nightmares are terrible."

"Yeah, I know."

They lapsed into silence. There was nothing left to explain. Haymitch understood nightmares better than most and he tried drowning his in alcohol - an advice he had given her jokingly. Effie had tried drinking - while it worked in burying her nightmares and causing her to pass out the entire night, the hangover she experienced the next day made her wish she had just stayed up all night instead.

She had tried cutting; to release her pain and fear through physical means but the sight of blood nearly caused her to faint. It made everything worse. The sight of the dark crimson liquid flowing down her arms had brought memories of children lying in pools of blood in the arena, and it reminded her of prison with its perpetual smell of blood.

Neither Haymitch nor her psychologist was aware of her self-inflicted injuries. It was just a onetime event, something she deemed unimportant.

"Haymitch?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't feel anything. Numb, most of the time. I took the doctor's advice – tried doing something I enjoyed but I lost interest in it."

There was a pause before Haymitch spoke, "I don't know what to say, sweetheart. I'm not exactly –"

"I know," she told him. "'Stay alive' is the best you have to offer, right?"

"Yeah, Effs. You just stay alive, alright?"

Effie was quick to change the subject. "How are you doing in Twelve?"

"M'okay. I've got geese now - look after them when I'm not too busy."

"Geese?" Effie said chuckling at the mental image of Haymitch surrounded by those white feathered birds.

"Hmm. Drunk on any other day."

"Same old then?"

"Routine, almost," he replied languidly.

XxX

Effie felt increasingly desperate. It was nearly a year since the rebels had won, displacing the late President Snow from power. Effie hadn't kept track of the days that passed but the phone call from Plutarch informing her of an upcoming memorial and celebration event had reinstated the awareness of time back in her.

The nightmares had gotten worse as the event drew nearer. Effie kept herself at home, only venturing out to see her doctor.

"I heard you haven't been going out much."

"No," she mumbled.

"Why's that?"

"Memories. Everywhere I turn I get reminded of something. I try to avoid anything that will remind me..." she trailed off.

As Effie left the hospital, she resolved to take control of her own life. _Tonight, I'll do it tonight.  
_  
XxX

The petite blonde haired woman sat perched on the edge of her bed staring at the tablets lying on her bed side table - tablets that Effie had nicked over the days as she prepared her mother's medication each night.

She felt a strange sort of calmness overtaking her senses. She reached forward, popping the tablets into her mouth and swallowed it with a large gulp of water. She settled in bed and waited for the effects to take place.

She thought of the smiling face of her sister, thought of all those moments they had fought over a brand new wig which their mother had bought for them. She thought of her father – a strict man who demanded respect from his two daughters but loved them both equally at the same time. _I'll see them soon._

She thought of her mother sleeping peacefully in her own bed. She would be okay, she had always been an independent woman before her health started to fail – the long term side effects of the numerous pills she took trying to maintain her figures and looks. Effie's mother was the one who introduced to her the glamourous lifestyles filled with the latest fashions, the one who urged her to be an Escort.

Finally, her thoughts went to Haymitch. She considered him her only true friend in this world though she wasn't sure if he consider her in the same capacity. Her hands fumbled for the phone at the bed side table and she dialled his number.

Pressing the phone to her ears, Effie could feel her chest beginning to constrict and a headache starting to set in.

"Hello? What? Eh, hello?"

Effie smiled listening to his voice. She didn't say a word.

"Listen you idiot, it's in the middle of the night, if you ain't gonna talk don't call me!" he grumbled angrily before slamming the phone down.

"Goodbye," she whispered when she heard the click of the phone on the other line.

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**There will be one final chapter after this.**

**A/N: I was doing some research on poison when I remembered Warfarin and came up with this story. I wanted to try writing something.. dark, never tried it before. So, I hope this piece was to your liking. Do leave me reviews and let me know your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning for dark themes.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me.**

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Part Two**  
**

"Is this Haymitch Abernathy? May I please speak to him," the caller asked urgently.

"Yeah. Effie? What's wrong with your voice, you got a cold or something? You don't always call in the morning, always at night unless... I'm too drunk to know the time."

"Mr. Abernathy, this is..." The person wavered, a catch in the note of her voice registering at the back of his mind, "- this is Mrs. Trinket. Effie's mother."

Haymitch frowned, a sudden feeling of dread falling over him like a blanket.

"Uhh. Yes?"

"Please, if you could... Please come as quickly as you can, Mr. Abernathy. My little girl..." a sobbed escaped the woman. "- so much blood. She won't make it. Please. I don't know who else to call."

His blood ran cold. His hands began to tremble.

Haymitch heard the phone being passed to another person and Plutarch's voice reached his ears.

"Mitch, you're listed as Effie's emergency contact person along with her mother. I don't know the kind of relationship you had with her but...Look, if you want to come, I'm sending a hovercraft down to Twelve. Fastest way to get to the Capitol."

"I'll be there. Just...What the hell is going on?" he managed to asked after he had overcome the initial shock.

The wait for the arrival of the hovercraft and the journey to the Capitol were among the toughest moments of Haymitch's life. He kept replaying all the conversations he could remember having with Effie in his head and the last phone call he had with her, trying desperately to calm his raging thoughts. A singular thought permeated his mind: _What if that call was the last time I'll ever hear her voice?_

He somehow managed to detach himself from his own morbid reverie and ran through his house despite the alcohol raging through his body, picking up clothes and items for his trip to the Capitol. Haymitch was barely aware of what he was doing, his body moving on auto-pilot. He had picked up a TV remote control by accident, mistaking it for his keys all the while his mind swirled with images of Effie and blood.

His thoughts inevitably lurched back to the day he found his family dead in their bed. He had found his brother with his chest slashed open, the mattress filled with red crimson liquid. _Oh Eff, not you too, Eff, not you too. _

He spent the entire ride on the hovercraft pacing wildly, his fist clenching and unclenching on his side. After hours on the hovercraft, he finally disembarked on the roof of a hospital. Plutarch was there to greet him. His face was grim and Haymitch felt the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach multiply ten-fold.

"Is she- I mean...is she..." He stuttered, unable to get the words out.

"No. Come along."

XxX

Plutarch led him to a room at the end of the hall way. No words were exchanged between them but he laid a hand on Haymitch's chest stopping him before opening the door to the hospital room.

"Has she ever mentioned in passing or otherwise her desire to end her own life?"

Haymitch's eyebrows shot up and disappeared into his hair line. "What?" he sputtered out. "You mean, she... I thought she got into an accident, car accident or ... I don't know," he shrugged helplessly.

"She tried to take her own life, Haymitch. That's what it looks like."

"No, it can't be. She's depressed and unhappy but –"

"Attempted suicide – took her mother's medication. She overdosed on Warfarin, an anticoagulant. Effie was haemorrhaging. Her mother found her this morning bleeding heavily from her nose, the pillow soaked with her blood."

"Shit, man," Haymitch uttered softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Her last phone call was to you."

Haymitch started as he recalled the silent call he received in the middle of the night and closed his eyes in despair.

XxX

Haymitch settled in on Effie's left, her mother on her right. Haymitch gave the older woman a curt nod and watched her silently as she dabbed the tears with handkerchief. Haymitch had never met Effie's mother before but had heard of her enough from Effie.

He turned his gaze to Effie who looked as white as a sheet except for the bruises that had formed on her pale skin.

"The doctors told me that she had been ingesting my warfarin tablets for a few days and that last night, she overdosed on them. I was... They informed me that the uncontrolled bleeding from her nose and the bruises are signs and symptoms of an overdose on warfarin," her mother spoke softly.

He looked at Mrs. Trinket briefly and noted the grief stricken expression on her face. Haymitch stroked Effie's hair, but he couldn't help the feeling of anger creeping into him. Did Effie think it was okay to leave her mother behind, to leave him behind? All those nightly phone calls she made to him - a routine Haymitch had learnt to accept and even looked forward to – and he couldn't pick up the signs from her? While he knew that Effie was still struggling to cope, Haymitch had never thought she would be driven to end her own life. _How desperate was she?_

"She talks about you often," Mrs. Trinket told him after another lengthy silence.

"Complained about me will be a more accurate term, I believe," he muttered.

"Yes, well, she does that, too. I didn't like her being friends with someone from a District but... She's stubborn, had always been stubborn and you saved her from the prison. I owe you for saving my little girl's life."

He knew that it was not easy for the proud woman to admit that she owed a man like him anything. Haymitch swallowed painfully hearing those words. There wouldn't be a life to be grateful for if she didn't wake up from her coma.

Plutarch came that night and brought Mrs. Trinket home leaving Haymitch alone with Effie.

"Mr. Abernathy, if you need someplace to stay, please we have an extra room at our house," she offered, a silent understanding had been formed between them as they sat vigil for hours by Effie's side.

Haymitch nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Trinket. It's Haymitch."

But Haymitch remained with Effie and kept her company even if she had no way of finding out.

XxX

Effie opened her eyes five days later. Haymitch never thought he could ever have a favourite colour, but blue seemed to be it at that moment. The relief that flooded his body when she opened her azure blue eyes was palpable.

Mrs. Trinket broke out into fresh tears and launched herself at Effie, kissing and stroking her cheeks.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. You gave me such a fright," Mrs. Trinket sobbed, hugging Effie's frail body.

Effie cried too, the tears silently falling down her cheeks. Her eyes locked on Haymitch who was hovering at the background awkwardly watching the display between mother and daughter.

Mrs. Trinket pulled back and saw the way Effie was staring at Haymitch. She patted Effie's cheeks and left the two alone.

Haymitch moved slowly and settled down at the edge of her bed, his hand finding hers.

"I'm still alive," she said.

"Odds forever in your favour, I think your mother said."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. Haymitch wasn't sure what she was apologising for. For trying to kill herself? For making him worried?

"Aren't you going to ask me why?" she asked softly, her gaze downcast as though she was embarrassed.

"No," he said staring at the wall behind Effie's head. "I know how it feels, I've entertained such thoughts before. Just ... Promise me something, Eff."

Effie looked up at him curiously.

"Don't do it again. I don't think – can't imagine waking up to news that you're gone just like that, without me ever..." he cleared his throat. "- especially if... if there's a way that I could have helped."

She cried, her sobs racking her fragile body.

Haymitch tilted his head and regarded her, desperately wishing that she understood what he meant. Haymitch wasn't an emotional man by nature but this woman lying helplessly on the white bed made him feel all sorts of emotions that he wasn't ready to fully admit to himself yet.

"Haymitch?" she asked timidly after she had finally managed to calm down. "Can you... Kiss me, please. I just want to ... I just want to feel something."

Haymitch stiffened unconsciously, frowning at her unexpected request. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins and his senses began to heighten. He felt the coldness of her hand in his, the way her chest rose and fell, how she shifted uncomfortably when the silence between them began to drag on.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry that was ... extremely forward of me," she said, the voice cracking. She pulled her hand away from his but he held on to it fast.

_I can't feel anything. Numb, most of the time, _he remembered Effie telling him over the phone once.

Haymitch leaned forward slowly and he saw her pupils dilate. Her breath hitched and his lips stopped mere inches from her. He could feel her soft, warm breath blowing against his own lips.

Her eyes fluttered shut and Haymitch closed the gap between them, his lips pressing softly against hers. He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. Haymitch could feel the tears falling down her face as he kissed her. He had never before imagined that he would be kissing Effie Trinket in such circumstances. The Capitol movies he watched out of boredom at the Penthouse before the start of the Games lied then - not all kisses were sweet, there are no music, no birds singing in the trees. There was only a woman's desperate need to feel something, to remind herself that all is not as bleak as she made it out to be.

He pulled away and looked at her. "It's okay if you don't feel anything, Eff. A kiss isn't going to change anything."

Effie shook her head, "I feel something... I feel hopeful."

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**And that's it. End of Warfarin.**

**I hope I had managed to pull off a decent job. Tell me your opinion, drop a review :)**


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